


there's only one thing to do, three words for you

by jadedlilian



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Canon Compliant, Drabble Collection, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Handcuffs, Implied/Referenced Sex, Making Out, Masturbation, Morning After, One Word Prompts, Parenthood, Sex Toys, Sexual Roleplay, Smut, Teasing, Temperature Play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2018-12-26 15:39:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12061983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadedlilian/pseuds/jadedlilian
Summary: jake/amy drabbles based on one word prompts and other requests, originally posted on tumblrratings vary from T to E and are specified before each chapter





	1. with nothing but your t-shirt on

**Author's Note:**

> peraltiago + shirt (M)

Amy Santiago is in his shirt. Amy Santiago is standing in his kitchenette, wearing _nothing but_ his shirt. His favorite blue plaid shirt. _Oh_.

She’s facing away from him, stirring cream and sugar into a steaming mug of coffee, so he lets himself appreciate the view for a moment longer than he would otherwise.

Her hair is sleep tousled – a far cry from the bun it’s usually tied into, but definitely neater compared to the state it had been in last night. His fingers twitch at the memory of tugging, of carding through locks as he kissed her this way and that.

Her skin, completely visible from the bottom of her shirt (no, _his_ shirt) downwards, is _nearly_ flawless. There are red marks stark against the back of her legs, and he’s pretty certain he has a few matching bruises on his own chest.

Her posture is relaxed; she seems totally at home in his apartment. Truthfully, if it weren’t 6:30 in the morning and if she were actually wearing her own clothes, this wouldn’t look like such an unusual scene. Amy’s made coffee in his kitchenette a good number of times, enough that she knows where to find everything without having to ask for help.

As his eyes sweep over her frame, he briefly wonders why she’s in _this_ shirt (the plaid one he wore to work and then tossed in the general direction of his hamper in his mad dash to get to Bouche Manger on time) rather than the button-down he wore to dinner last night. The torn scrap of blue on the floor of his living room makes him remember: _Ah, yes._ Four Drink Amy showed him no mercy. And owes him a new dress shirt. And should never be allowed in public.

Grinning, he finally pads over the rest of the way to her. Dropping a kiss on her flannel-covered shoulder and then to her cheek, he drawls, “ _Morning_.”

Amy smiles then turns to press her lips against his. The kiss is languid and soft, and their arms slowly find their way around each other. It’s much, _much_ different compared to last night’s frenzy of alcohol-bolstered passion. But it’s just as good. Sweeter, even.

“Nice shirt,” Jake mumbles teasingly, moving to start working at the buttons.

She laughs, batting his hands away. “ _Jake_ , we have to get to work in like an hour and a half. I still have to go home and get dressed.”

“What’s- wrong with- your- current outfit?” He asks, punctuating his words with kisses. “I think you’ve proven you _definitely_ wear it best.”

She rolls her eyes and takes a swig of coffee, but the mug doesn’t quite hide her widening grin and the pink tinge across her cheeks. “Yes, because I should _really_ waltz into the precinct in an orange soda-stained shirt, without pants or shoes or underwear.”

Jake smiles cheekily, taking the drink out of her hands and setting it back down on the counter. “That’s literally a dream I’ve had once.”

She tilts her head to the side and quirks her eyebrows. “Including the orange soda stain?”

“How else will I know the shirt’s mine?” He holds a serious expression for a moment and a half, then they both devolve into giggles.

When the laughter dies down, Amy leans up to kiss him once more then stalks off to pick up her only-slightly-rumpled dress off the floor. (Four Drink Jake knows not to literally tear clothes off other people, no matter how hot they are or how long overdue the sex is. Sober Jake is really proud of this. Four Drink Amy should take notes.)  

“Alright, Pineapples, I should really get going,” she says, once she’s changed and done finger combing her hair. “Don’t get to work too late… Or do, so no one asks any weird questions.”

Jake chuckles and nods, opening the door for her. “See you in a bit, Ames.”

As he watches her walk down the hall to the elevator, he can’t help that the goofiest of smiles spreads on his face, that the warmth in his chest radiates through his entire being. When he notices blue plaid sticking out of her purse, he thinks: _yeah_ , he doesn’t mind parting with his favorite shirt at all.

(He’ll steal it back the third time he sleeps over at her place.)


	2. you better believe me when i say that you are my weakness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from 23anne: peraltiago + badge (M)  
> includes headcanons by Bluerazz

She leads him to the back of the evidence lockup and drops his hand when they get to a secluded-enough corner. Her heart is pounding over the thrill of breaking another rule (in a professional workplace environment, no less) and racing in anticipation of kissing Jake once more. 

He looks at her with a grin on his face and an amused, almost challenging glint in his eye. “You sure you want to do this, Ms. Most Appropriate?”

She considers her options for all of half a second then reaches to close one hand over his police badge. She pulls slightly, enough so that her other hand can grasp and tug firmly at the chain around his neck. (She’s thought about doing this a shameful number of times, gone through the motions in her head over and over in vastly different, varyingly realistic scenarios, that this now feels almost like second nature.) He pitches forward with a surprised grunt that gets smothered against her lips, transformed into a breathless moan when she starts probing his mouth. As their kiss deepens, with Jake’s hands roving her back and with her fingers tangling through the hair at the nape of his neck, the dull pressure of his badge pressing on her stomach is forgotten entirely. 

Eventually, long after the drama of their deceased captain has blown over, she’ll reenact her other daydreams: playing with his badge during a lull on a stakeout and drawing him into a languid lip lock, yanking on its chain when he’s being particularly infuriating and crashing their lips together, having her way with him when he’s wearing nothing other than the departmentally issued accessory. 

(For about a week after that last point, he has to switch to clipping his badge on his belt – entirely because just the feel of it hanging around his neck has his cheeks burning and his blood rushing south.)


	3. i’m screaming mercy, mercy please

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> peraltiago + uniform (E)
> 
> prompt from sergeantsantiago: You wrote this on the badge drabble "having her way with him when he’s wearing nothing other than the departmentally issued accessory." AND NOW I NEED IT

Jake gasps loudly, digging something out from the bottom of a box labeled “OLD” that had gone straight from the back of his closet to the center of Amy’s, no- _their_ , living room.

Amy looks up from the box of assorted knick knacks she herself had been trying to sort through. (Her boyfriend, she’s learned, has somewhat of a hoarding issue and at the very least needs to figure out how to better organize his stuff.)

“Check it out, Ames! My old beat cop uniform!” He holds the dark blue shirt up in front of him, beaming with the excitement of a child that’s just stumbled on a toy he thought he lost. “Man, I haven’t worn this in 10 years… That’s like, 15,000 days!”

She chuckles and rolls her eyes affectionately at his poor grasp of math and simple unit conversion.

Jake clambers up from his spot on the floor then shakes the creases out of the uniform. “Hey, do you think I still fit in this?”

“I don’t know, Pineapples.” She makes a show out of looking him once over. “I feel like all the candy and junk food might’ve given you an extra few pounds since your patrol days.”

“First of all, the only pounds I’ve gained are pure muscle _._ And B, _rude_!” He sticks his tongue out at her then makes his way over to their bedroom. “Prepare yourself, Ames! I looked mighty fine in my 20s!”

A few minutes later, Jake struts out in his old uniform, complete with his lapel pins, tie bar, and badge slung around his neck. He’s the picture of a perfect officer (apart from the lack of regulation boots over his sock-clad feet), and boy does he look _good_. Amy’s mouth goes dry at the image, but the rush of heat in her belly alerts her to the inevitable wetness she’ll soon be experiencing in _another_ place.

He stops a foot away from her, rests his hands over his hips, and smirks. “Told ya I’d still fit in it. My _great_ diet and lifestyle have kept me in tip top shape all these years, Ames. Look at me, I look a-ma-zing.”

She stands up and reaches out to slowly run her fingers over his badge and the chain it’s hanging on. (If this were earlier on in their relationship, she maybe would feel a teensy bit self-conscious at her sudden turn of mood. With them having just moved in together, she decides she might as well go with her gut – or, really, listen to her libido.) She hums softly, looking him straight in the eye. “I don’t know, officer. Have you seen the wrinkles in your uniform?” Tugging slightly to pull him closer to her, she drags a hand down his chest. “When was the last time you had this pressed?”

Jake swallows thickly, immediately recognizing the low timbre in his girlfriend’s voice and the deliberate flutter of her eyelashes. He straightens his stance and lets his own voice drop an octave. “Actually, _captain_ -” Her hand tightens around his breast pocket, and she grins wickedly at the title. “I just picked this up from the dry cleaners yesterday. But- well, you know how it is when you get in a tussle with a perp on the street. You’ll have to excuse me for looking a little rumpled.”

“ _So_ brave,” she purrs, moving her hand upward and caressing his cheek. She leans up to whisper in his ear. “How ‘bout I have you sit down, so I can check you over for injuries? I’d hate for you to have damaged any _equipment_.” Her last word is laced with poison, dripping with sinful intentions that are only confirmed in her pressing open-mouthed kisses to his neck.

He sighs when she starts sucking at the sensitive skin beneath his jaw and moves to undo his belt. “ _No!_ ” Amy growls into his skin, and it’s ridiculous how much a single syllable can turn him on. “Not yet.”

She pulls away at that point and pushes him toward the nearby sofa. He falls backward when his legs hit the chair, and lets out a groan when she climbs on top of his lap. His cock is growing increasingly hard, and having her hips rolling against his through their multiple layers of clothing is driving him mad.

She buries her hands in his hair, raking through it as she crashes their lips together. “Gotta check for head trauma,” she mutters breathlessly before going back in for another searing kiss. Her hips continue to rut forward and back on their own accord, easing some of her need for friction.

Jake’s hands find their way underneath her shirt, and a shudder runs through her as he runs his fingers down her spine and grazes his thumbs underneath her rib cage. She grinds down on his crotch, harder, faster, while panting and mewling against his lips.

“ _Ames_ ,” he rasps, the better part of him knowing that this may well end with him coming in his pants like a high schooler dry humping for the first time.

Amy slows in response, aware that his strangled voice and vice-like grip on her waist means that he’s close. She pulls back and admires his flushed cheeks and full blown pupils for a moment then shifts off him.

“Strip,” she commands authoritatively, standing over him.

He blinks, taking time to process her instruction, then his hands fly to the chain around his neck. He’s about to pull it over his head when she tells him to stop. “Leave nothing but the badge on, officer.” His eyes darken as primal desire rushes through him, and he breathes out a “ _Yes, captain_ ” before all but ripping off his uniform.

Amy quickly gets rid of her own clothes then straddles his lap after she’s satisfied with their states of undress. His erect shaft twitches at the sight of her, at the very proximity of her wet heat. He bites down on his lower lip, roving her face for some indication of what she has planned.

He’s almost disappointed when she doesn’t lower herself onto him right there and then, but then she starts to press kisses around his collarbone and chest, anywhere that isn’t covered by his badge, and he’s once again so far _gone_. He moans when she licks at his nipple, dragging her tongue around it slowly, and digs his nails into the upholstery below him when she pulls away. “No injuries here,” she whispers, and it hits him that he’s nearly forgotten they were playing a game in the first place.

“ _Captain_ ,” he whines. “Please.”

“Did you want something, officer?” She lets her slick apex rub against the head of his cock. “I’m still checking to make sure the mean old perp didn’t hurt you.”

He groans and shuts his eyes, mentally reviewing the most common police codes in attempt to stay calm through the end of her teasing. His breath stutters in his throat, and his eyes snap open when she takes him in her wet entrance without warning.

Amy kisses him intensely then starts to move, bracing herself on his shoulders as she rides him. Waves of pleasure course through her every time she rises up and sinks back onto him, angling herself properly to have him hitting her right where she needs him to. She moans loudly when she transitions to rocking back and forth, grinding hard and rubbing her throbbing clit against his pelvic bone. Each stroke has her hurtling closer and closer to release, and she throws her head back and starts to ramble in ecstasy. Meanwhile, Jake’s completely lost in the sensation of her around him, in the sound of her crying out his name.

He clutches her ass and thrusts upward into her in quick succession, and she’s soon enough writhing and coming apart around him, babbling a string of nonsense. He finishes right after, grunting and groaning as he spills into her.

When she comes to, Amy presses her forehead against his and kisses him softly. He smiles and pulls her closer to him, combing a hand through her hair slowly.

“Full disclosure,” Jake says later, when they’re cleaning up after themselves. “I probably won’t be able to wear that old uniform or _hell_ \- my badge for the next week or so without getting straight up turned on.”

“Just a week?” Amy asks, pulling the dark blue standard issue shirt around her shoulders and turning to him with a coquettish grin. “Let’s see if we can ruin these threads for you for a whole month.”


	4. i'll keep you my dirty little secret

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from aisforr: peraltiago + photograph (E)  
> includes ideas by Foxcanoes

It’s well past midnight, and she’s woken up by the sound of her phone buzzing on her bedside table. (She’s not one to leave her phone completely on silent, just in case an emergency comes up and she has to be called to the precinct.) When she reaches for it and squints at the bright screen, it’s not a message from Holt that greets her but a string of texts from her presumably drunk partner.

**_best night ever!!!!!_ **

**_y scotch burn so good?_ **

**_whaz his name n serpico?_ **

**_whos th frend of urs w/ teh pingpong?_ **

She’s not sure if she’s meant to laugh or roll her eyes at the last thing she receives: a picture of Jake looking completely plastered, shirtless, leaning back on a bench of a subway platform and eating Chinese chicken salad. It’s so ridiculous, and she doesn’t know why she’s surprised that this is where his night of drinking with Jimmy Brogan went. She hits the lock button on her phone and snuggles back into her pillow, already preparing to see the hungover detective the next day.

After showing Jake the photo as evidence of just how drunk he got, she doesn’t look at it again for weeks. The picture’s long forgotten until she herself is more than a little tipsy, sprawled out on her bed after a night of celebrating with Kylie and other members of their newly nationally ranked trivia team, Trivia Newton-John. She’s looking through the camera roll of her phone, smiling at all the silly selfies they took earlier, when her thumb slips and she ends up scrolling too far. The old photo of Jake catches her eye, and she pulls it up.

She giggles, shaking her head at her disaster of a partner. Something keeps her from swiping to another photo or closing her phone altogether, and she stares at the picture a bit longer. The alcohol in her system ( _How many did she have exactly? Was it four?_ ) spurs thoughts she’d surely tamp down otherwise – thoughts of knocking the stupid plastic fork and container of salad out of his hands, climbing on his lap, and running her fingers through his hair and over his bare shoulders and chest; thoughts of sucking hickeys into his neck and collarbone; thoughts of kissing down his torso and nipping at the slight pudge below his navel.

The images stir a familiar heat in her belly, and she bites her bottom lip when she starts to feel wetness pool between her legs. She lets her eyes slip close and takes a deep breath, waiting for the rush of arousal to pass.

_It doesn’t, of course it doesn’t._

Only slightly disappointed in herself, she commits to it. (It being slipping out of the cute dress she put on for the night, peeling off her half-soaked underwear, and bringing her trusted vibrator to her pulsing clit.)

She comes undone with a stuttering moan no five minutes later, pushed over the edge by the idea of digging her nails into Jake’s toned back while he slams into her and presses open-mouthed kisses into her neck. Her hips fly off the bed as she grinds against the silicon toy, and she moans and moans and moans until she’s panting and spent.

She’s almost ashamed of herself the morning after, when she wakes up with a headache and spots her vibrator beside one of her pillows. She checks her phone and finds that it’s still set to his picture ( _the_ picture), and her cheeks burn at both the memory of the night before and the renewed desire coursing through her.

She knows she’ll probably regret this at some point, but she hits the heart at the bottom of the photo, sending it to her Favorites album for future reference.

(She doesn’t regret it, not even when her boyfriend stumbles upon his very own picture over a year later. – He puts two and two together in all of half a second, breaks into a knowing grin and gloats for _hours_ , but he sends her loads of shirtless selfies and more to make up for it.)


	5. there she goes again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from chimchimchereedly: peraltiago + a baby (T)
> 
> inspired by [Andy Samberg talking about fatherhood](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lCCf8ZfY9qc)

Fatherhood is hell.

It’s saying goodbye to happy hours at Shaw’s, Mr. Met meet-and-greets, Ska concerts, hacky sack sessions with the boys by 7th Street, and more – at least for the time being. (The crying, screaming, kicking bundle of joy has him so wrapped around her finger that he refuses to have anyone babysit for him when he’s not actually at work.)

It’s hitting pause fifteen minutes into his Die Hard marathon because the loud noises woke the baby up, and then switching the DVD out for the old Muppets one from Terry. (The Rainbow Connection is the only thing that’ll lull the mini gremlin to sleep these days, and it’s also the one song that’s been stuck in his head on loop for a full week.)

It’s not being able to enjoy the gummy bear goodness of his breakfast burrito because the munchkin won’t stop crying unless she’s being held. (Amy was up at an ungodly hour to feed her, so he figures she should be able to eat her oatmeal and fill in her daily crossword in peace.)

It’s deep cleaning the one massage chair he was allowed to keep because his months-old daughter spit up all over it. (In hindsight, maybe rocking her right after she finished her bottle wasn’t such a good idea.) … It’s also having to clean the chair all over again because she promptly peed on it once the leatherette had dried.

It’s not getting past Second Base because _somehow_ the baby monitor always goes off right when he’s about to slide Amy’s underwear down her legs or when she’s just kissed a trail down his torso. (His child officially has two well-honed skills: making fart noises with her mouth and cockblocking her parents.)

But, _really_ , it’s incredible. It’s magic.

It’s coming home from work to his mother, bouncing her first granddaughter on her knee and singing the songs she used to sing to him as a child. (He definitely isn’t crying. His eyes are still just watery from the ultra spicy goat stew Charles shared with him earlier.)

It’s memorizing entire episodes of Sesame Street, reciting lines like they’re lyrics to his favorite Taylor Swift song, and nailing his Oscar the Grouch impression because it makes the peanut scream with laughter. (His Elmo voice is not as good, but he’s working on it.)

It’s learning that his kid likes mashed bananas more than pureed peas – or at least that’s what he thinks he can deduce from the ridiculous amount of green goop splattered around her high chair. (His refined palate has to agree, though, mashed bananas are lightyears better than pureed peas.)

It’s sitting in his favorite chair with his smallest favorite person cradled in his arms. (She’s so warm and so soft, and his insides turn to mush every time she yawns or smiles or reaches a tiny hand up to touch his face.)

It’s lying in bed next to the love of his life, stroking her hair as she hums a lullaby to the little one snuggled between them. (He’s never been as content, as happy, as in love.)

It’s _heaven_.


	6. whisper in my ear that you want some more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from mysinfulsideblog: peraltiago + handcuffs (E)  
> includes ideas by Foxcanoes

“ _Hello, tied-up Jake_ ,” Amy says – and if that doesn’t get his blood rushing south, then her shutting the blinds and locking both doors to the room does. He swallows dryly, suddenly extremely grateful that The Tramps and Bill left him alone here, handcuffed to a filing cabinet with no means of escape.

“Will you please help me get out of this?” He asks hoarsely, halfheartedly. The better part of him knows he should be out there making sure his Big Plans work out, but he’s fantasized about this – being handcuffed _at work_ and being at the mercy of his wickedly smart, amazingly gorgeous girlfriend – for ages.

She stalks over to him with a smirk on her face, then closes the remaining distance between them by tugging on the chain around his neck and kissing him far too heatedly for the professional environment they’re in. “I think we both know that neither of us wants you out of these cuffs,” she mumbles against his lips, sending a rush of hot desire through him.

Jake’s so lost in the kiss, so overwhelmed by the feel of her tongue grazing his lip, that he doesn’t notice her hands leaving the side of his face and the back of his collar. He’s so focused on the sound of her soft moans that he doesn’t hear her fumbling with her own standard issue handcuffs. He realizes, as his free hand is suddenly thrown against the drawer on his right and bound in place, that he really should’ve been more vigilant tonight of all nights.

“ _Wha-?_ Ames?” He rasps, cheeks flushed and heart racing. He didn’t think it was possible, but he’s light years more turned on than he was when Amy first cuffed him to their bed frame.

“Oh, _Jacob_ ,” Amy purrs, moving to slowly run a hand down his chest. Her touch is electric even through the cotton fabric of his gray shirt, making him shiver. “Do you know what I would do to you if we weren’t at work right now?”

He bites his lower lip and shakes his head, not trusting himself to speak. His cock is straining against his boxers, and all he can think about is how badly he wants Amy to undo his belt, lower his pants, and take him in her mouth. (She’d done something similar the last time he was bound to one of their dining chairs, and his mind’s still reeling at the memory of being teased, of being denied then finally brought over the edge with a flick of her tongue.)

“No? Well...” Her hands continue their path until they find their way underneath his shirt, free to languidly roam the expanse of his skin. “Let’s just say I’d lick you _here_.” Her thumb brushes his nipple, and he lets out a deep, ragged breath. “And I’d kiss all the way down here...” She drags her nails down his torso, tortuously slow, before settling her palm over his erection. “And then I’d–”

She’s cut off by a frustrated groan, followed by Jake rutting his hips forward, grinding into her hand in search of much needed friction. (He wanted this, he knows he wanted this. But _fuck_ , she’s driving him insane.) Amy pushes his hips back then, too forcefully so that his ass thuds against the cabinet behind him. “ _Geez_ , you’re the most impatient man I’ve ever met.”

He glares at her for all of half a second, his gaze searing and intense, before crashing his lips to hers. The kiss is demanding and hard enough to bruise, but it ends way too soon because Amy pulls away to nip and suck at that one spot beneath his jaw. Jake moans in response, his wrists straining against the handcuffs as he tries to break free.

Her hands reach beneath his shirt once again, gliding up and down his sides. “You know what else I’d do to you, _Jacob_?” His eyes slip shut as she starts to whisper the dirtiest of things, the sort of unfiltered ideas he’s only heard from Four Drink Amy herself. Her breath is hot against his ear, her voice dripping in lust.

This is very, very quickly becoming all too much, and on any other day, this is the point he’d switch up their positions or think of police codes or do _anything_ to get this (h _im_ ) to last a reasonable amount of time. Right  now, with her fingers tracing the line of hair below his navel and with her lips working at his neck, he’s not even sure he still knows how to breathe.

“ _Ames,_ ” he gasps, when she starts to rub him through his pants. Blood is rushing through his ears, and his heart is pounding in his chest. In the end, all it takes is one, two, three strokes, and he’s gone, coming apart with a breathless moan and a shudder, knees nearly buckling.

When he finally comes to, he finds that Amy’s already taken back her handcuffs and is in the process of unlocking the ones Charles put on him. She takes his wrists once he’s free and rubs at them, massaging where the restraints had left marks. Her actions are gentle and loving – a far cry from the playful torture she just put him through, but she does giggle and flash an impish grin when she notices he’s watching her.

Heat rises to Jake’s cheeks when it hits him that he literally just jizzed in his pants, but he’s not _too_ ashamed. (He knows it was only a matter of time before Amy figured out how to have him come undone like that. If anything, he’s awed and grateful and so much more in love with this woman who knows him so well.) He beams at her, still basking in the after-climax glow and now even more giddy over what’s to happen at midnight.

She had been so ready to gloat, so prepared to make fun of him, but the teasing joke dies on her lips at his dopey smile. Affection courses through her, and she leans forward to kiss him, soft and slow.

A moment later, Jake pulls away with a content sigh. “Hey, does this mean you’ll team up with me against The Tramps?”

Amy scoffs and shakes her head, shoving him lightly as she steps away. “Not a chance.”

She kisses him again, just for good measure, then makes her way toward one of the doors. Before leaving the room, she turns back to him. “Oh yeah, there’s a fresh set of clothes in your locker in case you wanted to change.”

Jake chuckles and nods. “Thanks, Ames.”

“Good luck with the Heist, Pineapples.”

(Amy does get to tease him about The Incident a day later, after they’re done celebrating their brand new engagement. Jake takes it like a champ but gets his sweet revenge in a few weeks, when he rubs her through her pantsuit and brings her to climax in the corner of the evidence lockup.)


	7. you’re starting fires and you’re giving me, giving me chills

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> peraltiago + ice (M)
> 
> loosely based on this prompt from anonymous: Peralta sees the medical examiner once again at a crime scene + he wants to try dead guy sex/fun with Amy + conclusion: Amy takes back what she commented in s1 (weird,weird,weird)

It starts off as a joke – a tease first uttered in the bedroom around the two week mark, when the sheer awe over actually, _finally_ being together gives way to a more familiar dynamic.

They’re kissing, tongues brushing lips and hands grazing skin hinting at what’s to come, when Amy pulls away with a gasp. “ _Wait–_ ”

Jake’s eyebrows knit together in concern. “Is something wrong?”

“Should we get an ice cube?” She asks the question innocently enough, but amusement is gleaming in her eyes. “You’re into that kind of thing, right, Peralta?”

He stares at her for a bit then groans when her face breaks into an impish grin. “You _swore_ you’d never talk about that again!”

She laughs loudly in reply, only further spurred on by his indignant pout and flushed cheeks. (Truthfully, the teensiest bit of disappointment twinges in her gut. But this goes forgotten a second later, when Jake pins her to the bed with a playful growl and starts nipping at her neck.)

* * *

It sort of becomes a fantasy – somewhat of a kink that she’s, for once, hesitant to share. (True to his past word, Jake’s been up for pretty much anything in the bedroom, and they’d had nothing but orgasmic fun exploring role play and bondage and praise; she’d had no qualms bringing up her other sexual needs and wants... Except _this_ , despite being something different entirely, brings back too many memories of her boyfriend’s _weird, weird, weird_ old fling.)

Eventually, the words slip out of her mouth after she downs her fourth cocktail of the night.

“ _Jacob,_ ” she whispers in his ear, discreetly placing a hand on his thigh. The bar’s loud enough that, to anyone else, it seems like she’s just leaning closer to be heard. “I want you to tie me up.”

His grip tightens around his beer, and he clears his throat while shifting in his seat. The action brings her hand ever so closer to where he needs it. “ _Yeah?_ What else do you want, babe?”

She starts to brush her thumb against the fabric of his pants, slowly tracing shapes that burn straight into his skin and get his blood rushing south. Her remaining inhibitions slip away as the effect of her last drink sets in. “I want you to blindfold me and–” She pauses to graze his earlobe with her teeth, making him swallow dryly. “I want you to drag an ice cube down my body.”

His eyebrows shoot up a bit in surprise, and he has to take a moment to make sure she’s not pulling his leg again. (Her sensual gaze, slight lip bite, and continued ministrations tell him that she most _definitely_ isn’t kidding.)

* * *

It comes as a surprise – something Jake slips into their foreplay when she least expects it. (As far as she could recall the morning after her alcohol-bolstered confession, he wasn’t opposed to the idea at all. But, as with before, her sober self-consciousness held her back from broaching the subject again.)

The first thing she notices when she enters their apartment is how warm it is. With the snow piling up outside, she’d reluctantly crawled out of bed that morning, kissing Jake goodbye before braving the winter cold. The entire unit is toasty and wonderful now, and she’s going to have to thank her boyfriend for remembering how she likes to set the thermostat.

After hanging her coat up, she pads over to the kitchen, where Jake’s dishing up two servings of matzo ball soup. “Hi,” she greets, embracing him from behind and nuzzling his neck.

“Ames!” He chuckles, resting the ladle on the rim of the pot and making sure the bowls are steady before turning around to return her hug. He pecks her lips softly then moves to set the table. “Hungry?”

“Mhm. Did your mom make this?” She knew he’d gone to visit Karen in the early afternoon, like he often does on his days off.

“Yup! This is my Nana’s old recipe, so I’m hoping you like it.”

She beams and takes a seat, ready to tuck in. Everything Mrs. Peralta had sent them thus far had been amazing.

“Oh, by the way,” Jake says as he dips a spoon in his soup. He’s using the fake-casual voice Amy’s come to recognize since he first timidly suggested pegging. “After dinner I was thinking we could maybe, uhm–” His voice drops an octave. “Bring out the silk ties and have a bit of fun?”

She’s naked and tied down to their bed soon enough, her wrists and ankles bound with silk restraints and her eyes covered with one of his neckties. Her whole body’s buzzing in anticipation, and she can feel the wet heat starting to pool between her legs; the unpredictability of this situation had always turned her on.

They’ve done this before, with sex toys and without, but she’s not at all prepared to feel the small frozen block against her bare chest. She gasps loudly when it first hits her skin, and she has to bite back a whine when he immediately pulls away.

“You okay, babe?” His voice is gentle, concerned. She’d be overcome with affection if not for the primal need coursing through her.

She hums, nodding. “Keep going.” She lets out a breathless sigh. “ _Please_.”

He continues, dragging the ice cube along her skin in seemingly random paths, taking care to slowly trace around her breasts and peppering her with open-mouthed kisses every so often. She gasps and shivers at each heightened sensation, relishing in the feel of the cold ice melting against her skin, writhing at the stark contrast of Jake’s warm tongue on her nipple.

It’s when he draws the chunk of ice around her slick folds and exhales hotly against her pulsating nub that she comes apart, pulling against the restraints and moaning, moaning, _moaning_.

(She later brings him over the edge _twice_ with her mouth around his cock and her tongue swirling around the tip. After all, she _did_ have to thank him for keeping the heater on and for, well, everything else.)


	8. girls just want to have fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from santiagodownonme: anything w four drink amy
> 
> peraltiago + toy (M)

He’s not quite sure how many drinks he downed at Shaw’s, but apparently he had enough to think that going to a sex toy store with Amy Santiago is a good idea.

(She shimmied over to him by the darts board earlier, full glass in her hand, and whined about how Gina ditched her partway through their dance off. Ten minutes and one tequila sunrise later, Amy’s scowl morphed into a playful, dangerously coy smirk. She brought up the suggestion with a bat of her eyelashes, and Jake really couldn’t argue with her logic – everyone else had gone, so he  _ was  _ the only one left to make sure she didn’t splurge her last paycheck on overpriced, overhyped oral sex simulators.)

It’s been years since he last set foot in such a shop, definitely over a decade since Gina first dragged him to one, and he’s absolutely mesmerized. With the alcohol in his system, he’s a lot less ashamed and a lot more willing to give in to his curiosity. (Truthfully, having watched Amy mime jacking off dildos within minutes of entering the store, he’s also a little drunk on something  _ other  _ than beer.) Currently, he’s in front of the shelf of bondage gear, fascinated by the wide selection of restraints and blindfolds. 

“Leather handcuffs, aye?” His deskmate makes a low whistle from somewhere behind him. He doesn’t have to see her to know that she’s waggling her eyebrows the same way she had when he was checking out the cock rings. She comes by and gives the shelf a once over with a soft hum. “Yeah, our standard issue cuffs are  _ terrible _ on the wrists. You gotta at least get these neoprene ones.” 

He snorts and raises a hand to high-five her. A more sober Jake would have gasped comically at her words then interrogated her on her experience in the bedroom. Right now, though, he’s just tipsy and impressed. “Well, well, well– look at you all kinky and in the know!”

Giggling, she meets his hand then swiftly slaps his ass. “And you and Rosa thought I didn’t know what sex was.” 

He laughs loudly, not even fazed by Four Drink Amy’s antics at this point. “So did you find anything you liked?”

Her face brightens, and she pulls him by the arm to a table across the store. The employee on shift nods at them as they stumble past and says to yell if they have any questions. 

“Okay, so–” Amy picks up two vibrators from the spread of test models. The pink one almost looks like a lopsided potato, at least from where Jake’s standing, while the purple one is unapologetically phallic. “Clit vibe or g-spot vibe? I’m torn.” 

“Uh–” It takes him more than a second to process her question, and his response becomes even more delayed after she switches the toys on and hands them over. He’s entranced by the low buzzing, the rumbly feel against his skin. He doesn’t really have much knowledge to draw from; he hasn’t read the 17 or so reviews he’s sure Amy bookmarked in anticipation of this – but he figures there’s only one right choice here. “Why not  _ both _ ?” 

Five minutes later, as she’s fishing in her purse for her wallet, Amy asks whether he’s getting anything. This makes him laugh because almost everything in this store costs much too much money. He checks to make sure that the employee is out of earshot and drops his voice to a stage whisper. “The prices on some of these toys are  _ redonkulous!  _ Like, I think I saw a gold-plated butt plug worth  _ $2000? _ ” 

She chuckles, shaking her head as she pulls her credit card out. “Okay, I know you’re in crushing debt or whatever, so  _ I _ will buy you something. Did you want a butt plug? I’ll get you one maybe in the not-$2000 range. How ‘bout that?”

He splutters, heat rising to his cheeks and heart kicking up a notch. The mere prospect of owning such a toy –  _ any _ toy – has his blood rushing south, but he can’t expect his coworker to invest in his sexual bliss. “ _ What! _ Santiago– You don’t have to do this! I swear, I had fun just coming here!” 

“Title of your sex tape, Peralta.” She takes a moment to wink at him obnoxiously but lets her expression soften right after. “Jake, really, I owe you one... What’ll it be?” 

“Well…” He chews on his bottom lip, then his eyes travel to the wall of male strokers. 

 

* * *

 

When Jake blinks awake the next morning, he’s confused. First because he doesn’t entirely remember what happened between leaving Shaw’s and getting back to his apartment. But also because he’s butt naked, which isn’t how he usually goes to bed (at least not when he’s without company). 

He sits up and runs a hand through his sleep-tousled hair, trying to recall the events of the night before. It’s when his eyes land on the  _ thing – _ the recently-purchased Fleshlight, the newest addition to his bedroom – that the bits and pieces start coming back to him. 

He remembers Amy helping him pick this out, displaying yet again her unexpectedly (yet, unsurprisingly) extensive knowledge on sex toys. 

> (“Do you want one that feels like a blowjob? Do you want one that makes it seem like you’re fucking some futuristic robot? You know, I once read an article that said–  _ ooh wait, _ check this out!)

He remembers her trying to score some free flavored lube, and this makes him blush in hindsight because he can only imagine the things she’d do with the slick chocolate cherry stuff.

> (“Excuse me, can we try these?” 
> 
> “Uhm, we unfortunately don’t have these available for sampling, although… I  _ could _ give you a coupon for the assorted set if you and your boyfriend really want to–” 
> 
> “We aren’t dating!
> 
> “We’ll take it!”)

And, oh  _ fuck _ , he remembers trying the hand-held stroker for the first time. Even now, the memory of pumping into it, of relishing in the velvet tightness, of spilling into it with a loud groan has him half-hard.

He strolls into the precinct after over an hour – he’s late, as per usual, but even more so because he had to address his  _ not-so-little  _ situation. He’d been afraid that things would be awkward between him and Amy (what with him not knowing whether it’s appropriate to thank her for sponsoring his most spectacular orgasm of the last four months), but she’s got her head down on her desk when he arrives. (He chalks it up to her still being hungover; he doesn’t dare let himself wonder why else she’d be so sleep-deprived and exhausted.)

 

* * *

 

Neither of them mentions their shopping spree for well over a year, and Amy doesn’t even bring it up when she stumbles upon Jake’s prized toy several weeks into their relationship. (She’s reaching into his bedside drawer for a condom when she spots the Fleshlight, and it’s with the greatest deal of self control that she doesn’t just pull it out at that moment.) 

She  _ does _ say something the next weekend, when she’s back at his place for a cop movie marathon. (She sneaks the stroker out of its hiding place while he’s in the bathroom and shoves it behind one of his couch pillows right as the flush goes off.) 

When the end credits are rolling and they’re well into making out, she grazes his ear with her teeth. “ _ I think I wanna try something new _ .”

A shiver runs down his spine, and his lips curl into a grin. “Anything, babe.” 

She pushes him off her gently then reaches into her bag, strategically placed at the foot of his couch. She brings out the two vibrators, the ones he insisted she should get, and grabs the hidden Fleshlight. “I wanna use these on myself while I watch you fuck this.”   

His eyes nearly pop out of their sockets as he splutters for the right words. Whatever he was expecting her to suggest, it wasn’t that. “You– uhm, wait, you remember– uh,  _ what _ ?”

She laughs, still amazed it took them this long to broach the subject “Honestly? I forgot all about buying you this until I was doing my biweekly accounting and looked over the receipt. I didn’t think you would keep it though!” 

He scoffs. “You think I’d just throw this away?! Might I remind you how expensive this and all those other things were? I’m still not over the $2000 butt plug, Amy! Who needs a gold-plated butt plug?”

She dissolves into more laughter, memories from that fateful night flooding back to her, but she quickly sobers up when he picks up his toy. She takes a deep breath and looks at him expectedly. “Well?”

_ “First to come loses?”    _


	9. it's my right to be hellish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from peraltiagoisland: jake and amy had sex before they went to the crossword party thingy
> 
> peraltiago + jealous (M)

He isn’t jealous. 

Because it’s not like she’d given him a reason to be. Her gaze hadn’t strayed. Her touch hadn’t lingered. The most she’d done was laugh at his jokes, and she was obviously allowed to laugh at whomever she wanted to. 

It isn’t jealousy that has him pushing her against the wall as soon as the door to their apartment slams shut. It isn’t jealousy that has him tearing off her work clothes and lavishing every bit of her skin with his lips. It isn’t jealousy that has him down on his knees, working his tongue between her thighs until she’s reduced to nothing but moans and shudders.

He isn’t trying to brand her. The bruises he’s leaving on her hips aren’t a mark of possessiveness. The power and depth of his thrusts don’t mean anything more than they did the night before. 

If she cries out his name in acknowledgment of how good he is, of how well he knows her like this, of how absolutely no one else can measure up to him– that’s entirely her decision. 

He isn’t jealous.

Besides, jealousy is an ugly emotion.


	10. but still i find you next to me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> peraltiago + sleepy (M)

His eyelids have barely fluttered open when he’s overcome by an onslaught of _Amy_. Her lips on his, kissing him deep and with intent. Her hands carding through his hair. Her hips rolling against his body.

Jake meets her intensity with a sort of clumsiness, moving his lips languidly and with perhaps a little less enthusiasm than usual. His system hasn’t fully woken up yet and probably won’t for another few hours.

He chuckles when she pulls away for air. _“Someone’s feeling frisky this morning_ ,” he says, propping himself up on his elbows. His voice is still thick and rough from sleep.

She grins sheepishly and nods, her cheeks darkening a smidge. “Are you… feeling up for it?”

It takes him a moment to reply because, again, his stupid sloth brain is still half-asleep. Amy’s expression softens as she studies him, and he can hazard a guess as to what she sees: dark circles underneath his eyes, crease marks on his face from his pillow, hair severely rumpled – although that last bit is partly her doing.

“I know you got home really late last night and haven’t had much sleep at all this past week. I can just take out my vibe and move to the living room if you’d rather go back to bed.”

He hums, mentally comparing the low flame of arousal in his belly versus the heavy fatigue weighing on his body. “I honestly don’t know if I’ll be able to do anything properly right now. But stay– use your vibe here, and let me watch. Maybe I’ll join you in a bit.” He tries to flash her his best smirk, but that’s quickly undercut by a yawn. “... _Maybe_.”

She laughs and leans in again to kiss him softly. “No pressure, babe.”

They exchange smiles, then she gets up to grab a hand towel from her dresser and her vibrator from their stash of toys. Jake busies himself with adjusting his pillow, trying to find the best and most comfortable position.

Less than a minute later, Amy steps out of her sweatpants and underwear, folding them neatly at the foot of the bed before settling back in beside him. She flicks the toy on and presses it to herself, her breath hitching immediately upon contact.

_“Easy, Ames,”_ Jake mumbles, leaning over to lightly kiss her temple.

“It’s been a while,” she says by way of explanation. It’s kind of true – he’s been swamped with work all week, and she’d been terribly busy the week or so before. They’d had to go longer without sex when they’d been separated in the past, of course, but it’s the longest dry spell they’ve had since their wedding. Jake just assumed she’d been attending to her own needs at home while he was stuck at the precinct.

She draws the toy away from herself for a moment, skips through a few intensity levels, then brings it back to her flesh. Her hips gradually start to rock against the silicone, sighs and soft moans escaping her.

_Beautiful,_ Jake thinks, absolutely mesmerized. He’s seen this sight a thousand times but will never quite get over how amazing she looks. She’s all flushed in ecstasy, her head tipped back and her eyes shut closed. He doesn’t have to be fully awake to appreciate how lucky he is that she lets him see her like this – or, _heck,_ that she _married_ him.

_“Fuck,”_ she breathes out, ramping up the intensity on her vibrator and grinding against it harder. She’s close, Jake knows.

When she _doesn’t_ come after a few minutes, despite her continued efforts accompanied by increasingly frustrated groans, Jake decides to lend a proverbial hand. He scoots closer to her and starts lazily kissing and nipping at her neck, all while fondling her nipple through her shirt. She writhes under his touch, moaning his name.

_“Come for me, babe,”_ he whispers into the shell of her ear. She does, almost immediately, her hips flying off the bed. Jake continues to lay kisses on her skin, lavishing her with his lips until she’s calmed down from the high.

She pulls him in for a proper kiss once she’s caught her breath. “Thanks, babe.”

“Of course.” He smiles, then sits up to help reach for her towel and sweatpants. She cleans up and slips into her clothes before cuddling into his side, breaking into a yawn.

“Let’s go back to sleep, Jake. We can go out for pizza bagels later.”

He pulls her closer and lets his tired eyes flutter closed. “Sounds perfect. Love you, Ames.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember, folks: consent is sexy even when you're married!

**Author's Note:**

> Have an idea for a drabble? Leave me a word or two in the comments or on [tumblr](http://gspotlinetti.tumblr.com)!


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